


The Gallifreyan

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Memory Loss, Pirate AU, Sailing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of a short piece I wrote in another story of mine - expanded and updated for the modern world. </p><p>"Rose Tyler's life wasn't exactly what one would call conventional but, up until that fateful voyage from Powell to Torchwood, it had been fairly ordinary."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gallifreyan

Rose Tyler's life wasn't exactly what one would call conventional but, up until that fateful voyage from Powell to Torchwood, it had been fairly ordinary. At least as ordinary as the life of the most famed pirate who sailed the Seven Seas could be, which is to say, hardly ordinary at all. She was the Bad Wolf and her name could strike fear into the hearts of the most hardened of pirates, which is precisely how she liked it because as romantic as the pirate life was suggested to be, it wasn't.

She had just finished doing business off the coast of Powell and was prepared to set sail for the Isle of Torchwood, it had been ages since Rose had seen her oldest and dearest friend Jack Harkness - self-proclaimed leader of Torchwood. Her First Mate - Mickey Smith - warned her from the trip, reminding her that the trek through Gallifreyan waters was fraught with danger (their age-old feud with the Dalek Empire had recently come to a head), but she didn't come to be who she was by avoiding danger.

They plotted the course carefully and Rose figured if they kept their flags down and sailed under cover of darkness they would make it out the other side unscathed - anything was better than sailing around the coast of Ood and getting stuck in whatever festival they were celebrating. It was a sound plan with only the smallest chance of anything going wrong, which is precisely why it did.

It was 0300 when Rose heard a shout and emerged from her cabin in time to see a man being pulled over the side of the ship and deposited on the deck. Mickey informed her that he had spotted the man clutching a bit of driftwood and given the order to rescue him. Rose gave the half-drowned man a cursory inspection and, after noting his torn clothing and matted hair, told her men to get him cleaned up, put in her cabin, and kept under watch during the night and she'd check on him when they cleared Gallifreyan waters.

The rest of the night was spent in breathless concern as the ship glided past Dalek and Gallifreyan ships alike without drawing undue attention and Rose gave no thought to the man they had rescued. There were a few close calls but, when dawn broke across the eastern sky, the ship and her crew were safely in neutral waters and a rousing cheer went up before Rose sent as many men as she could spare to sleep. Passing the helm over to Mickey, Rose went to check on their newest passenger.

He was still out cold, but he was dressed in cast off clothes from the crew and his hair had dried in a mess around his head and Rose felt her heart clench by the sight of how young he appeared. He could hardly have seen more than twenty-six summers, as many as she herself, and she wondered what his story was. She was still staring meditatively down at him when he gave a sudden yell and sat up, his eyes wide as he reached for a non-existent sword.

It was several intense moments of scrabbling before she could get him to calm down and sit back down on the edge of the cot, though every line of his posture was taut and his eyes darted nervously around the room. The moment he opened his mouth, his accent supported his distinctive genes - he was Gallifreyan, and well-educated at that, but when she asked for his name, he opened his mouth and then shut it with such an intense look of fear, she took a step back. His voice broke when he admitted he didn't know and she ducked from the room under the pretense of finding him food to give him time to collect himself.

Later that day, leaning against the railing, Rose discussed the options with Mickey. It was too late to turn back now - even without the threat of war, Gallifrey wasn't known for its tolerance of outsiders. Besides, Mickey argued, what were they going to do? Drop him off and say good luck? They didn't have the crew to spare to help him find his way home. So, despite her misgivings (not to mention her forebodings about having a strange man in her crew), Rose told Jake to keep them on course and went to pass the news to...well they couldn't call him "the Gallifreyan" forever.

In the end, he named himself. When an unexpected storm blew the intrepid Jethro off the rigging, everyone expected they'd be holding a funeral, but their unexpected passenger sent terse instructions for hot water, a needle, thread, and old sheets, and within two days Jethro was sitting up and waving off his near-death experience. From that moment on, the crew referred to their passenger as "Doctor" and the nickname stuck. 

It was a solid two week sail between Gallifrey and Torchwood under a good wind and, with the storm, it was likely to be closer to three. With each passing day, the Doctor's enthusiasm seemed to triple and the fact that he couldn't seem to remember anything past waking up on the Bad Wolf appeared to bother him less and less. He was constantly underfoot, sticking his nose in everything, and causing trouble with his desire to tinker and be involved in everything. And there was no place he'd rather be than wherever Rose was, leaning over her shoulder and offering suggestions. 

By the time the Bad Wolf and her captain docked in Torchwood, it was a well-known fact that Rose couldn't stand their Gallifreyan passenger. Captain Jack Harkness met the ship with a full dress parade on bended knee, mischief sparkling at the discomfort the attention was affording Rose, but the hug he bestowed on her once the crew was safely behind closed doors spoke of long years of friendship between the two and for a moment she clung to her oldest friend. 

Jack, of course, found the Doctor intensely amusing and incredibly attractive, flirting with him half the time and trying to set him up with Rose the other half, but when the two Captains were without an audience, Jack spoke more seriously, cautioning Rose about the consequences of what was going to look like a kidnapping of someone who was obviously high-born Gallifreyan. Rose pursed her lips, but stood by the decision she and Mickey had made - they'd had no other choice and they'd cross that bridge later.

In the meantime, Rose took every opportunity to enjoy the extravagant lifestyle of Torchwood - the twin pursuits of fishing and piracy meant that the island residents lived in the very lap of luxury. There were cool drinks, gorgeous waterfalls, tradesmen offering the latest splendors from around the world, and a generally uninhibited lifestyle - Torchwood's citizens took after their leader in many ways. On any other trip, Rose would have (and had in the past) enjoyed the reckless atmosphere, but this trip there was the Doctor.

If Rose had found the Doctor unbearable on board ship, she found him doubly so on land. Any hope that the island would be large enough for them to pursue different interests was quickly forgotten as the Doctor seemed to appear at every possible opportunity. If she had found an unoccupied beach, the Doctor would be right behind her, flinging rocks into the surf; if she was chatting with an attractive male, the Doctor would plop down beside her, draping his arm around her shoulder; if she was settling into a hammock, the Doctor would drag over another, eager to tell her about his latest discovery. 

Rose had originally been planning on spending at least a month on the island, but two weeks in and she was itching to get back on the sea, the bow of the Bad Wolf pointing back towards Gallifrey. Her crew grumbled some, they'd been looking forward to the extended leave and Rose hated taking it from them, they were all good men who had been pushed hard in recent months, but they understood the need to return the Doctor from where he came. And if Rose used the excuse they could get in trouble for kidnapping royalty, no one needed to be the wiser.

Jack saw them off with a full band and cheering crowd, waving till the Bad Wolf was out of sight. The feel of the wind and the smell of the salt water put new life in her men - all of whom had answered the siren call of the sea with a clear head at one time or another - and they struck up a bawdy song. Rose smiled, content to let them be merry as they could. She herself took first post at the helm, steering them straight and true towards Gallifrey, the memory of Jack's goodbye kiss and his whispered words of advice still running through her head. Good or bad, the advice came from her friend's heart and she knew it could be months or years before she saw the good Captain's face again.

As for the Doctor, he waffled between seeming ecstasy at returning to his home land, cutting capers on the deck and swinging from the rigging, and pits of the despair where he would follow Rose around mournfully, slumping nearby to where she was and waxing eloquent on how much he would miss her face. Rose put up with this as tolerantly as she could, which is to say, hardly at all - sending him on imagined errands or giving him regular shipboard duties. It was only when she was alone in her bunk that she admitted the Doctor had won a place in her heart and Jack's admonition that losing him was not a good decision rang true, but it was easy to forget that in the light of the day and as they quickly approached Gallifrey, she steadfastly refused to admit she wished the trip would take longer.

They weren't but a few kilometers into Gallifreyan when they came across a burning ship - it's deceptively large size and odd color choice marking it as Gallifreyan in origin. The crew, Rose, and the Doctor sailed by in stunned silence, and the joke that the Doctor tried to make when the ruins were behind them fell flat as they catch sight of another straight ahead. After that the waters are dotted with them, great hulking smoking wrecks, left to smolder out as best they can. No one dared to say anything and Rose was painfully aware of the Doctor, his shoulder pressed to hers, his hands gripping the railing with white-knuckles, his ragged breathing. And when at last they came into the harbor, snaking between refuse, the smoke of the Citadel twisting heavenward, the smell of burning things, the very best of which is wood, the worst is unmentionable - only then does anyone make a sound.

The Bad Wolf docked as it was able and the crew went ashore, half hoping, half dreading what they would find. They stayed on for some weeks, sorting through the wreckage, burying the dead, searching desperately for anyone living. The Doctor was quiet, subdued - leading them through the streets, silent tears running down his cheeks when they came across more death, his hands shaking as they read the accounts of the final battle. This time it was Rose's turn to stay close to him, offering a hand to hold, a listening ear, and sometimes a companionable silence as they worked side-by-side to bring what order to the chaos as they could.

At the end of three weeks, Rose knew it was time for them to go. Their own supplies were running low and their clients would be expecting them - they were already well behind schedule and the Eastern Merchants would be angry. As the crew reboarded the ship, pausing only to say a respectful farewell to the jagged and destroyed landscape, the Doctor hung back, shoulders twisting away from the group. Rose motioned Mickey to begin the preparations for cast off and followed the Doctor.

They stopped not far away, the Doctor facing the land, away from her as he spoke, his syllables disjointed as he said something about striking off on his own. Rose laughed, surprised at the tears that emanated from it as well, grabbing his hand, her fingers sliding between his, their shoulders pressed tightly together. For a moment they said nothing at all, his incessant voice stopped for once and her, unsure of the boundaries she was crossing, the affection flooding her being for this man without a home, without a past, without a memory.

When at length they made their way to the ship, his hand still interlocked with hers, as the anchor came up, and the ship cut smoothly through the sea, making its way out of the Gallifreyan waters and onto the next stop, as Mickey and Jake and the rest of them pretended to look anywhere but Rose, as the lines relaxed on the Doctor's face and his tongue became unstuck, his prattling filling in the edges, Rose felt a measure of contentment slowing spreading through her veins. Jack had been right all along - the Doctor was stuck with her now and she was pretty okay with that.


End file.
